Love is unlonesomeness
by kition
Summary: This is an alternate take on the first night that Ash and Kristofferson spend together, from my vague knowledge of the movie that I saw a year or two ago, in which Ash and Kristofferson are shown to have more in common than they originally thought! And for that reason, they are much closer, whether romantically or platonically is for you to decide.


Kristofferson lay awake and teary-eyed under the table where his bed was nothing more than a sleeping bag. Nose brushing the wood, the fox muffled his cries in the silence.

Languidly, Ash looked over his raised bed toward his cousin. He climbed from the bed to the floor and knelt. His ears twitched at the sound of the sadness; Kristofferson didn't seem to notice. Ash sat back on his knees and flicked on the miniature train that lay on the table above his cousin.

Music and lights resonated from the scale model and got Kristofferson's attention more than Ash's stirring. With that, he shifted from under the table while wiping the tears and choking back more weeps. He sat straight beside his cousin, and they eyed the train simultaneously. It traveled the same track over and over while they said nothing; only the music covered their breathing, and they could faintly see each other from the lights, if they bothered to look.

Kristofferson looked first when he decided to ask why Ash got up from his bed following the frustration he had shown before. "You didn't seem to want to talk at all. You flicked off the lights and didn't even say good night back to me."

Ash didn't answer that either, but his eyes weren't following the train still too. His eyes stared indefinitely at some point of the track or model, but still away from Kristofferson; he could have not heard him and looked exactly the same.

"I think you want to say something."

"I didn't want you going to bed crying without me doing anything about it. You would tell my dad about it." The older fox knew how his father would react to that: he would give a punishment less severe than Ash's mother but Ash would be hurt the same.

"I can't tell exactly, but I think you're jealous of me."

"Like cuss I am," Ash felt defensive.

"Logically, if I were acting on my emotions when telling on you being a bully to me, I would go to your mother because she's my aunt. Why would you assume I would tell your father?" Kristofferson wanted to talk to Ash now.

Ash turned off the train set's lights and music quickly and climbed the ladder to his bed even faster. Kristofferson was left in the floor, but he rose and asked further, "You should answer any question you're asked that you might ask yourself too. I think you might ask yourself this." The tall fox could reach up to Ash's bed easily, and his hind paws lifted his body up onto his toes; his chin and eyes above the mattress saw Ash's back turned toward the room, his shoulders slouched as well.

Kristofferson lifted himself down but spoke again up to Ash. "Truthfully I don't know how you could be jealous of me, grandfather sick and sleeping in the floor."

"It's a nice floor." Ash's voice was distant. He liked some things about the new house.

"You're hostile because your parents treat me well. I'm a house guest and a relative, so you can expect as much, so I think what really makes you angry is me. Or that I don't deserve to be treated so well because you don't treat me so."

Ash flipped over and peeked his snout over the mattress toward the still standing Kristofferson—his hands together and head angled down as he had been talking. Ash exploded in whispers, "Look, man—I don't care what you're thinking. You'll be gone soon, so just bear with your sleeping bag and get over me and you'll be out of here before either of us know it."

"I don't have any problem with anyone who treats me right. I shouldn't be the one getting over you."

Ash wasn't quite whispering anymore, but his voice wasn't quite loud enough to be called speaking level yet, "Shhh! Just, shhh! Stop talking to me. Stop and we don't have to yell at each other over our differing and your arguably wrong opinions."

"You're jealous about something about me."

Ash exploded more vigorously, on his hands and knees and leaning over the top bunk bed, "What do I have to be jealous about? Dying grandpa? Ha! Perfect and loved still. Who cares if you have to deal with that because people still like you the same. People like you more because you have a weepy story. I—I'm alone." Ash didn't have sure footing concerning where he was going, but his aggression wouldn't let him stop, "I'm different, but you sit pretzel-legged in the floor for half an hour, and they call it yoga. And dad! He's just trying to reinvent our lives, moving us into a dangerous house because he thinks he looks poor. What's so bad about looking like what you are?"

"Are you not okay with showing what you feel, then?" Kristofferson was still standing.

"What do you think I'm doing?" Ash asked genuinely; he sounded out of breath but not necessarily impatient.

"You're telling me you're angry because you are jealous of how people like me? Because your parents treat me better than you think they treat you? Because your methods of getting attention and affection don't work like you want them to? Because people like me and so I get affection more easily than you?" Kristofferson was getting irritated with the logic he saw and his language grew more colloquial and temperamental.

Ash slouched back and said, "Just stop talking. This was stupid to talk about."

Kristofferson climbed the ladder to Ash's bed and half-shouted toward the lump in the sheets, "You can't be jealous of that."

Ash shouted back after turning around, "Oh, and what do you know about being jealous when you have nothing to be jealous of?"

"I know that jealousy is worthless!"

"So you're not jealous of anything?" Ash said with no hint of aggression, pure wonder at such a possibility. A pause thickened the air between them and Kristofferson collected himself for a confession.

"Worthless, yes, but unavoidable." Kristofferson and Ash were on a more relatable understanding.

"Then don't be so mean about my jealousy. I can't help it, you said it yourself." Ash settled back onto his side, away from the room.

"You have a lot to be jealous about with how likable I am." Kristofferson admitted.

"Yeah."

"But you can be thankful. I think you're a pretty cool person, Ash."

"Yeah," Ash took longer to respond this time.

"Most people like me, Ash, because I don't have any reason to not be nice unless someone affects me. You affect me." Kristofferson added the last sentence more slowly.

"My jealousy affects you." Ash confirmed on his own.

"I understand your jealousy because I'm jealous too." Ash just listened again. "Like I said, you can be thankful, because most people I meet like me, but you get my attention. You aren't a nice person, Ash, but I know that your envy makes you angry. You think you have an unfair position, and you try to get out of it in every way except being a positive person. I want to see you be a positive person."

"What are you jealous of?" It was what Ash most wanted answered because he couldn't imagine: Kristofferson envious of anything.

"Many things. But I'm most envious of the warmth you have that you throw away and give to no one—not even to yourself."

Ash got teary-eyed while he faced away from the other fox because the words made sense and made his actions even more appalling. He recognized the affection he had been tossing for years because of his lack of insight. The conversation he was having was only a small portion of the kind of healing that affection could wrought. He wept like Kristofferson had under the table.

Kristofferson withdrew from the top of ladder where he had been sitting and talking over his shoulder toward the bundled-up cousin. He could hear the crying and decided to retreat after patting Ash's foot in acknowledgment.

"Kristofferson, wait." Ash said with timid certainty. "I know what you mean and all that. I want to feel your hands."

The younger was taken by surprise. He returned up the ladder and crawled closer to Ash. As he offered his hands forward, he asked, "Why do you want to feel my hands?"

Ash wiped his cheeks but not his eyes with the fur on his arms. Right hand first and then left, he put his fingers firmly around Kristofferson's. He said, "People who love each other hold hands and hug and touch each other to feel better. I don't do that because I'm afraid, but I like how it feels."

"Do you want to hug, then?" Kristofferson didn't lax on the hand holding because he could feel the fervor in Ash; he knew this would be a life-changing moment for his cousin; he knew he would do anything to help.

Ash pulled his hands back and fell into a hug instead, his hands limp but his arms tightly woven between Kristofferson's torso and raised arms. Ash still cried as Kristofferson rested his chin against the nape of the first's neck.

They sat hugging only briefly before Ash stopped crying and pulled back. He wanted to apologize, but Kristofferson beat him by saying, "Thank you, Ash. It wasn't an apology, but I can tell that you want to give one. You don't need to." Kristofferson crawled back toward the ladder; Ash stopped him.

"Hey, I—I cry in front of people sometimes, but I always feel worse after I do. You won't tell anyone?"

"Not if you tell me not to."

"Don't... and, uh..." Kristofferson waited, and Ash spoke up: "I feel worse when I see people I cried in front of later, but I think I'll feel better if you stay here a while."

"Here?" He first thought of being physically in the house, then in the family, then he was unsure.

"Here, on my bed. There's enough room even though I made you sleep on the floor before." Ash also said, "No one comes in to wake me up either. Mom just yells from outside. I won't—we won't have to worry about my parents seeing..." he trailed off, modulating his voice ever quieter and shy.

"You like the comfort of sleeping near someone you love?"

Ash was tense and breathed a response, "Yeah."

"I'll take your offer to sleep on an actual mattress. And I'm glad to help you, Ash. You're hurt and you hurt all the time from what I can tell. I'll help you any way I can. That's what friends do."

Ash curled down into his sheets closer to his bedroom wall than usual. Kristofferson slid under the blanket and smiled in the darkness at nothing in particular, or maybe at everything at once.

Neither could notice any extra warmth from sleeping so close to the other nor were they sleeping especially close. Two pillows and no less than two fox-feet between them, they shared only a blanket. Both drifted into sleep more hopeful than ever before.


End file.
